


the deeper the bond

by beetbazaar



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko, Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Illustrated, Jaeger Engineer Nezumi, K Scientist Shion, M/M, Mind Meld, Multi, Nezushi Jaeger, Rou is Nezumi's Adopted Dad, Shion has SECRETS the fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 05:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11752893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetbazaar/pseuds/beetbazaar
Summary: (in which nezumi is an engineer, shion has secrets, their demons are external and they beat them to death with giant robots)The volume for the footage was low on the speakers, so when Dragonhide opened its mouth to roar the sound could hardly be heard over the din of the crowd. Nezumi stabbed at his dinner with his spork.  “We’re a support base. We’re the last line of defense unless a Kaiju pops up right next to us. You’ll be called in after Tokyo is already drenched in Kaiju Blue. From the looks of it, you won’t have to wait long. Give it a few hours.”Safu’s face soured. “Always the optimist,” she said, right before the entire canteen began to shout.(glossary of terms added for people not familiar with Pacific Rim)





	the deeper the bond

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Y'all! :]  
> I haven't written a fic in a while, but I've wanted to write a multi-chap Pacific Rim AU for No.6 for nearly two years now, so here's the first chapter.  
> If you have no idea what Pacific Rim is, but are reading this anyway because there's not enough No.6 fanfic, the short version is that it's giant robots beating up giant monsters (think 'Godzilla'). I also have a glossary of terms added to the end of the notes that I'll update + tack onto each chapter. (Recommended to read the terms /before/ starting the fic if you have never seen Pacific Rim).  
> I'm trying not to make any OCs for this, but that means pulling out really small characters from the No.6 novels lmao.  
> Also, I'm about to start college again, but I promise not to leave this fic in the dust. It might be slow going at points, but I love this AU so much!  
> I don't have a beta reader! All mistakes are 100% mine.
> 
> You can find me on my tumblr 'zethriid'!

 

**PAN PACIFIC DEFENSE CORPS SUPPORT BASE NO.6**

The Tokyo Shatterdome deployed Violet Zeta alongside her five color-coded sisters during the christening of their coastal wall. The six Jaegers were some of the smallest ever built (Violet Zeta _was_ the smallest ever built), and their goal was to patrol the waters past the Miracle Mile as Kaiju attacks became more frequent. They relied more on strategy than brute force, and always patrolled in groups. They were Japan’s pride and joy.

After a year, Violet Zeta and Cyan Epsilon were the only two left.

Nezumi picked up his tray of mystery meat and weaved through the hordes of workers who had come to watch the Kaiju fight. It was being projected onto the grimy canteen wall; a blurry, crooked rectangle of monster versus metal. Normally the showings only garnered a few extra onlookers, but this Kaiju was going for Tokyo. There were personal stakes in this. The room was packed.

He made his way up to the second level (a miracle he didn’t trip over the people amassing on the stairs as the room reached capacity) and tossed his tray down by Safu’s. Her black and gold Ranger jacket was thrown over his spot, and he pushed it aside so he could slide in next to her.

“What’s the Category?” Nezumi asked as he peeled off the top of his jumpsuit, then rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt. The room’s heat was oppressive, the heat of a thousand people breathing too hard.

Safu drummed her fingers against the table, a nervous habit. “Category IV, largest ever. Codename ‘Dragonhide.” She was watching the footage intently. Mieko, Safu’s grandmother and co-pilot, had a grim set to her lips. Both of their dinners were left forgotten in front of them.

For two hours, Tokyo’s tiny Jaegers had kept the Category IV away from the Wall of Life, but currently Cyan was being slammed against it, body stuck between the Kaiju’s chest and a thirty-foot wide wall of steel and concrete. Helicopters with Kaiju chasers flew around the scene, dwarfed by the 25-story tall beast.

Dragonhide was aptly named. It had a thick reptilian body, it’s neck the twisting coil of a snake. Neck frills opened and closed repeatedly, electric blue and big enough to cover a football field. The tail was triple pronged and triggered like a scorpion, and currently it was using it to smash through the wall. Violet Zeta hacked at Dragonhide’s back with her chain sword to no avail; the Kaiju was covered in plating that made it impossible to saw through.

Nezumi let out a low whistle through his teeth. “They should have never built those things so small.” The Jaegers weren’t built to take down the increasing amount of Category III’s and IV’s coming through the breach. Cyan was a rag doll being tossed around the coast of Japan, while Violet seemed unable to do any damage. If the Kaiju used Cyan as a battering ram and made its way to land, Japan would be decimated. All because of budget cuts.

Safu stopped drumming her fingers. “We should be out there. They can’t expect us to stand by and do nothing.” Her voice was passive, but Nezumi knew her long enough to tell that she was pissed. Queen Bee’s Rangers had transferred here from Tokyo after Mieko’s health started to decline. Nezumi wondered if Safu knew any of the Rangers.

The volume for the footage was low on the speakers, so when Dragonhide opened its mouth to roar the sound could hardly be heard over the din of the crowd. Nezumi stabbed at his dinner with his spork.  “We’re a support base. We’re the last line of defense unless a Kaiju pops up right next to us. You’ll be called in after Tokyo is already drenched in Kaiju Blue. From the looks of it, you won’t have to wait long. Give it a few hours.”

Safu’s face soured. “Always the optimist,” she said, right before the entire canteen began to shout.

Dragonhide had smashed through the coastal wall. The closest comparison to the scene going down inside the canteen was a riot. People were jumping up from their seats, cheering on Violet Zeta as she fired off her flank grenades. Others were rushing town the congested stairs, crying out in fear while they dialed their families in Tokyo. Some were in shock. Some screamed. Someone had the sense to turn up the volume over the commotion. A faceless announcer’s voice blasted through the room.

“Dragonhide, the largest Category IV to date, has broken through the Wall of Life off the coast of Japan. This is the second Kaiju attack in two months, completely unprecedented. Tokyo’s patrol Jaegers, Violet Zeta and Cyan Epsilon, are struggling to keep the Kaiju past the Miracle Mile. Support has been paged. As a precaution, we recommend that citizens from these areas begin to evacuate.” A list of cities scrolled by underneath a shot of Cyan struggling to stay standing. They were leaning heavily on the wreckage of the wall, aiming their plasma cannon at Dragonhide’s receding form. But their plasma cannon wasn’t charging, it kept sparking out.  

“Their core is unstable,” Mieko said, eyes widening in terror. And Nezumi could see it, the smoke coming from underneath Cyan’s chest plate, their movements becoming more mechanical as power diverted to primary systems. For a while, digital Jaegers had been the fad. They weren't the walking bombs that early Jaegers had been. But that changed after a category IV set off an electrical magnetic pulse attack in Sydney two years previous. Four Jaegers stood dead in the water for two hours while a Kaiju ripped them to shreds. Now nuclear power was mandatory. The downside was this—it was unstable.

They had minutes.

It all happened so fast. Two hours of cat-and-mouse over in two minutes.

For a moment, Violet hesitated. Then she ripped a support beam from the wreckage, and began following Dragonhide as it advanced past the wall. She let off two more grenades, aimed for the Kaiju’s long neck. When they burst on contact, Dragonhide let out a piercing screech that was so loud it came through the overhead speakers as static. The beast turned to face Violet and reared upwards, displaying a vivid blue underbelly. Its frills bloomed to frame its face, an intimidation tactic. Bio-luminescent blue stripes pulsed across them to the tune of a foreign heartbeat.

Violet took the opportunity and jammed the steel beam through Dragonhide’s jaw, skewering their mouth shut. The Kaiju flailed wildly, short arms scrambling for the Jaeger. A pouch on its neck was filling with venom, and the steel beam began to disintegrate from contact with the Kaiju’s blood. Any moment and Dragonhide would be free to volley its corrosive spit at Violet.

Except then Cyan was limping up into the shot, plasma cannon finally loaded. They wrapped their arms around Dragonhide, jammed their fist into its stomach and fired once, twice, thrice. Kaiju Blue burst into the air like daytime fireworks.

The shot was getting wider as the cameramen realized what was about to happen. Violet had started to sprint from the scene.

Then the footage went bright white, and then there was nothing but a shot of wreckage sinking into the ocean, shock waves crashing back towards the center of the blast. Some helicopters that hadn’t made it far enough away were careening into the water. The noise the explosion made couldn’t be processed by the speakers—it let out a long, throbbing whine and then cut silent. The canteen had never been quieter.  

The helicopter with the Kaiju chasers was flying back towards the scene, hovering around Violet Zeta like a fly around carrion. Next the V-50 Jumphawks would fly out from Tokyo to transport the Jaeger back to the Shatterdome. The fight was over.

Except that’s not what happened.

When Cyan’s core had exploded, the canteen had gone quiet out of respect. But core malfunctions weren’t shocking—nearly half of all Jaegers with nuclear cores suffered the same fate. But now, _now_ the canteen was still from shock.

The entire canteen—the entire world—watched as Violet’s Ranger emerged from the escape hatch on the top of their Conn-Pod. Single Ranger. Not plural. Not possible. The angle of the shot perfectly showcased the single control rig situated in the center of the Conn-Pod.

Single Ranger meant solo-piloting.

Solo-piloting meant death.

The Ranger’s visor was tinted a deep purple, keeping their face completely hidden. On top of their Jaeger they looked impossibly small, an ant on top of a mountain. They reached for their helmet as if to take it off, then dropped their hands. With a staggering gait, they turned away from the camera, looked at the Kaiju Blue spreading across the water where Cyan Epsilon had stood, and fell to their knees.

The footage cut away, replaced by a grim-faced newscaster. He recited some monologue about how the Kaiju threat was eliminated. No one said a word, everyone listening for confirmation that what they had just witnessed wasn’t some trick of the light. Nezumi was surprised to find that he had risen from his seat along with the rest of the crowd. Safu stood next to him, her eyes watering, her jaw tight. The news didn’t mention Violet at all.

Violet Zeta had fought the Kaiju for over two hours. They had been deployed five times over the past year. The average Ranger seized within fifteen minutes of solo-piloting. The longest solo mission had been twenty-two minutes. Two hours was beyond human. Two hours was impossible with the current technology. 

“Impossible,” Safu whispered, eyes still scanning the screen.

Yet, apparently, it wasn’t.

\-------------------------

Nezumi made his way to the lab, throwing his bed head into a bun that resembled a bird’s nest more than hair. The lights were half-dimmed in the corridor leading to the Research division. Engineers normally worked on the ‘A’ shift, which had ended five hours previous, which meant that there would be no one to bother him. 

He couldn’t sleep—not an uncommon problem for him, but ever since seeing Violet’s single Ranger it was like his entire body had become a live wire. The image of the single control rig was stained into his eyelids. Nightmares scarred what few minutes sleep he managed to catch.

_Body under rubble. And then, his grandma taking his hand and pulling him out, painful, like his shoulder would burst from the socket. But then he was free and they were running, running away, running in the wrong direction. He tried to free his hand, tried to go back to look for his FatherMotherSisterGoldfish, but his grandma’s grip was strong._

_And then—_

_He was bleeding, stumbling down the empty street. Rain made his wound into a river of red. The world was ringing, the ground shaking underneath him like it was breaking apart at the seams. All the power in his body he sent to his fist, gripping the flash drive there as if it could save him. But it couldn’t. He’d die here._

_And then—_

_A cry in the night. The boy on the bike, peddling with his arms up, careening down the evacuated street. He was yelling into the storm, and Nezumi opened his mouth and answered—_

Hope was a strange thing. A dangerous thing.

The lab was empty, as Nezumi had expected. He pawed for the light switch, and the fluorescents buzzed on in bursts. The lab was built tall and terraced, like most rooms were in the base. It had been designed with the thought that one day it would be overflowing with K-scientists and Jaeger engineers and mathematicians, but No.6 had never even housed a K-scientist, and these days there was hardly reason for engineers to use it even during A shift—No.6’s only project had been suspended for months.

He unlocked his drawer and pulled out half a dozen grid-lined notebooks, tossing them onto the lab bench closest to the chalkboard. Sticking a pen behind his ear, he licked his thumb and flipped through the thin pages of the first notebook until he reached his pet project. Calculations sat in twin rows on each page. _Two kaiju in two months, huh._ His math had been wrong, then. The Kaiju were coming out of the breach faster than predicted. He tugged at his bangs in frustration.

Climbing the ladder next to the board, he began to work it out again, running his palms over his mistakes so that the chalk blended away. It was methodical, calming work that cleared his mind.

Time slipped away, and when the sound of wheels rolling over metal grates roused him he couldn’t say how long he had been working for. From the ache in his back he guessed a couple of hours. From the ache in his hand, he guessed a couple more.

“I thought that you’d still be awake,” Rou said, wheeling his way down the ramp and over to the chalk board.

“Surprised that you still are, old man,” Nezumi replied easily, pushing one of the chalk board’s panels over his work before sliding down the ladder. He massaged the cramps from his palms.

Rou chuckled. “I’ve been up all night arguing with suits.” He reached inside his breast pocket and took out a paper, folded in quarters. He held it out for Nezumi to take.

“What’s this?”

“Just read it.”

Nezumi unfolded the note. It was a brief statement saying that Violet Zeta was decommissioned, digitally signed by Marshal Fennec himself. This came only 24 hours after Tokyo had released a briefer statement confirming that Violet was, in fact, a single pilot Jaeger, in direct violation of nearly 20 laws.

He cocked an eyebrow. “You came all the way down here to tell me the inevitable?

"No, there’s more. This is what I was arguing with suits over.” Another paper folded in quarters.

Nezumi read it once, and then read it again to make sure he wasn’t mistaken.

“They were going to send her off to No.3 to be deconstructed,” Rou said, smiling. “It took a lot of convincing to get them to send her down here instead. I pulled out all the old favors for this one. Happy birthday.”

The statement was a simple email printed on copy paper. It gave permission for Pan Pacific Defense Corp Support Base No.6 to continue construction on their halted Jaeger Project. Violet Zeta was to be transported to them for scrap. 

“It’s not my birthday,” Nezumi said, but he was smiling, a small tug of his lips. It had been eight months since they had been forced to stop construction; eight months of watching as Tokyo’s tiny Jaegers were wiped off the face of the Earth while their own mammoth was collecting dust in the hangar. “When does she come in?”

“Three days. Tokyo’s sending her down with some personnel.”

“To oversee the deconstruction of a Jaeger?”

Rou flung up his hands, “I’m only a director. I just follow the orders I’m given by the Marshal. Tokyo gives me the Jaeger, I take their duds.”

Nezumi creased the paper back into fourths. Violet’s Ranger sat in his mind’s eye. The world wanted to know their identity, but Nezumi could care less. What he cared about was the technology that enabled them to pilot a Jaeger solo for over a _year._ And now Violet Zeta was his to tear apart. He couldn’t wait to reverse engineer the beast, to sooth the itch under his skin. He was yearning for it, needed to _know._ Hope was a scab that he was willingly exacerbating.

His mind flicked back to those months of pilot training, years ago. To all the failed Drifts, his partners all folded over in pain.

_If the Ranger could do it alone, then maybe—_

Rou hesitated. Maybe he saw something on Nezumi’s face. Maybe he just knew his son. “I didn’t pull these strings so that you can go and get yourself killed, Nezumi. It was decommissioned for a reason—it’s dangerous. It’s just scrap metal with a viable core. You can’t pilot a Jaeger alone.” The words were quiet; the words were the loudest thing Nezumi had ever heard.

His hope forged itself into familiar anger, slicing at his nonchalant façade. He struggled to keep his voice neutral. “Someone did.”

Rou placed a hand on Nezumi’s arm. His voice was insistent. His voice was stern. “ _You_ can’t pilot a Jaeger alone.”

You _can’t pilot a Jaeger alone, it’s too dangerous._

You _can’t pilot a Jaeger alone, revenge has no place in this war._

You _can’t pilot a Jaeger alone, you’re my_ son.

Nezumi didn’t reply. Just stood there with the folded paper in his hands, face expressionless. Rou waited for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, as if he wanted Nezumi to say something back, but neither said anything.

Everything had already been said.

\-------------------

**TOKYO**

Shion shook off his umbrella when he reached the back door of the bakery. It was purely habit. The rain had been torrential, the kind that cleared his mind, and his ten-minute walk from the station had turned into a half-hour meander. He was soaked head-to-toe; no amount of shaking would prevent the water trail he was about to leave throughout the house.

Someone had haphazardly taped a propaganda poster over the door. _GO WITHOUT SO THEY’LL HAVE ENOUGH_. Underneath the bold script was a stylized picture of citizens holding up a Jaeger. Anywhere else, and Shion wouldn’t have given the poster a second glance, but on the door of a bakery it was a threat. He peeled the soaking paper off, tore it in half, and tossed it into the dumpster.

Then he reached for the doorknob. Belatedly, he wished he dyed his hair.

The bakery was thin and long, squished awkwardly between two bigger buildings. The bottom level housed the storefront and the kitchen, along with a small living area in the back and a bathroom under the stairs. The second floor had two cramped bedrooms—neither of which were his now that his mom had remarried. When he came home these days, he slept on the futon.

The same futon that Karan was reclining on when he walked in, her graying hair pulled up into a bun. The only light in the room came from the small television set, illuminating her in an aura of blue. Shion toed off his waterlogged shoes and deposited the umbrella next to the door as quietly as he could, unable to tell whether she was sleeping or not.

His efforts were in vain. “Hey, honey.” Karan smiled and shifted on the futon so that she was facing him. She spoke in a whisper—Renka and the kids must have been asleep, then. “Your dinner is in the oven.” Paired with the concerned furrow between her eyebrows, it was mom-speak for ‘I expected you home earlier.’

Shion flashed a tense smile in acknowledgement and held up his overnight bag. Paired with a gesture towards the bathroom it was Shion-speak for ‘I’m going to change and come back.’

The bathroom was just as cramped as the rest of the house, a half-bath with a toilet and a sink and a dirty light bulb and a dusty bar of soap. Shion changed out of his wet clothes quickly, throwing them across the sink to dry. He took a towel to his hair, drying the dripping mess and ignoring the gray streaks that hadn’t been there the morning before.

He emerged wearing sweats and a worn shirt with _PPDC Science Division_ emblazoned across the front. The towel he used to dry his hair was thrown over one shoulder. Dropping his overnight bag next to the futon, he continued to the kitchen to heat up his dinner. “Sorry, I got held up at work. There were riots. I should’ve called, you didn’t have to stay up and wait for me.”

The kitchen still smelled like cinnamon from that day’s baking. Shion flicked on the lights, and it took them a moment to flicker to life, wires humming with electricity. Blue LEDs blinked from the stove top, reminding him that it was 11:47 pm.

Karan waved her hand in dismissal. “They were showing footage of the riots on the news, I assumed you got held up. I stayed up because I wanted to talk to you. You work too much, Shion.” Mom-speak translation: You never come home anymore.

Shion rubbed the back of his neck and laughed half-heartedly. The sound turned into a sigh. “The Kaiju aren’t going to map their own brain,” he said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, which wasn’t much at all. He retrieved his tin-foil wrapped dinner from the oven, then returned to the living area to sit next to Karan. The yellow light from the kitchen spilled into the room, giving everything a harsh shadow.

“Have you thought about taking a vacation. You always seem so stressed.” She leaned over and tugged on a strand of his hair, “There wasn’t any gray in your hair a month ago.”

“Were in the middle of a war, mom. And there’s actually no correlation between gray hair and stress,” Shion pointed out, dodging. “But that’s actually why I came home.”

“You need hair dye? Renka has some in the cabinet under the sink, but it’s black, not brown.”

“No, although maybe that’s not such a bad idea.” Shion smiled ruefully. “I’m taking a break from the Kaiju Brain Project. They’re sending me to No.6 in three days. I’ll work on my thesis there.”

No.6 was the smallest of the support bases, housing just a single Jaeger, a Mark III named Queen Bee. Up until a year ago, it’s main bay was used to construct Jaegers for Japan and Korea, but budget cuts to the program had stalled the process, and most workers had been laid off.

It was the perfect place to disappear.

Karan nodded, eyes knowing. Sometimes Shion forgets that she had worked for PPDC, once upon a time. “They’re exiling you. Is this about your father?”

Shion flinched. “No. I chose to go. I’ll be able to come home on weekends—the train ride isn’t too bad, and my work load won’t be as heavy.” The truth. A lie. The truth. The truth. A lie.

Karan worried her lip between her teeth. Whatever was on her mind, however, she dropped. “We’ll, I’m glad. They’ve been working you to the bone in Tokyo ever since the Kaiju attacks started escalating. A change of pace would be good for you.” She turned up the volume on the news.

They settled into comfortable silence after that, Karan watching the TV, Shion eating his lukewarm dinner.

The news showed the rioters from earlier. They had been mostly harmless, mostly afraid. Wondering why the wall fell when it was sold as infallible, wondering how Tokyo was going to protect them now that one of their Jaegers was out of commission and another had been blown to smithereens. They had picket signs with catchy logos, and children with wide eyes, and they had blocked off all exits to the Shatterdome. Shion had waited nearly all night for them to leave so he could go home. They finally dispersed when the rain came. They were showing a birds eye view of the crowd, and the thousands of people looked minuscule when compared to the dome, nothing more than a few hazy pixels. 

Then, the news cut to footage of the Kaiju attack from the previous night. Shion stilled.

Every thing happened in miniature. Dragonhide smashed through the Wall of Life, Cyan Epsilon limped towards the Kaiju, the world went white. Shion inhaled through his nose, exhaled through his mouth. His mouth tasted like ash.

_Violet Zeta, this is Cyan Epsilon. You immobilize the Kaiju, we’ll do the rest. Over._

“Did you know them?” Karan asked softly, suddenly, her voice harmonizing with the murmur of the news anchor.

_The world a blinding white, even behind his eyelids, even when braced behind the coastal wall. Water rushed through his ears. He wasn’t far away enough, the blast scorched his Jaeger, and the pain came through the drivesuit like a slap._

Shion blinked and his vision focused. “No,” he lied, “not personally. Rangers are on a different shift rotation.”

Karan nodded as if it were simple as that. She placed a hand on his shoulder when she stood up. “Goodnight, Shion,” she whispered. And then she was switching off the kitchen lights, and she was heading up the stairs, and the world was drenched in blue again.

He watched as Violet Zeta’s escape hatch opened.

_And then he was alone. His heart broke against his chest like waves to shore. And he thought what he always thought: Why him. Why him, why him, whyhim whyhimwhyhim—An endless rhythm in his skull._

When a person crawled out, they were so small and indistinct on the tiny screen that, for a moment, he could pretend it was someone else. Anyone other than him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary of Pacific Rim Terms; (TLDR, Pacific Rim is about fighting Giant Monsters with Giant Robots)  
>  **Kaiju:** Giant alien (Think “Godzilla”) from another universe sent here through the Breach to destroy Earth. Have different ‘Categories’ depending on how advanced they are. Category I’s are the least, Category V’s are the most. They all have weird ass names.  
>  **Kaiju Blue:** Kaiju's toxic blood. It's blue, it's iridescent, it's corrosive, it'll kill you, it basically just sucks.  
>  **Jaeger:** Giant Robots built by the Pan-Pacific Defense Corps to kill Kaiju. Piloted by two or more Rangers connected through the Drift. Have different ‘Marks’ depending on how old they are. Mark I’s are the oldest. Mark V’s are the youngest. They all have weird ass names.  
>  **Conn-Pod:** The head of a Jaeger where the Rangers are located.  
>  **Ranger:** A person who pilots a Jaeger. Co-Rangers have matching jackets.  
>  **The Drift:** A Mind Meld between two or more Jaeger pilots. The deeper the bond between Rangers, the better they fight.  
>  **Drivesuit:** Worn by Rangers while in a Jaeger. Simulates pain and connects them to the Drift.  
>  **Shatterdome:** Giant domes built along Pacific Ocean that house Jaegers.  
>  **Wall of Life:** Wall built around the Pacific to keep out Kaiju.  
>  **Breach:** The area in the Pacific Ocean that Kaiju emerge from.  
>  **Miracle Mile:** 10 miles off the coast. If a Kaiju is closer to land than this, it’s nearly impossible to prevent them from entering the city.


End file.
